Black Star
by A. David
Summary: When Earth is under attack in a universal war, Sherlock Holmes drops his detective work and goes under cover as a spy named Khan Noonien, for an agency created by his brother, Mycroft. When things take a turn for the worse, Sherlock is stored in a cryer tube, and wakes up 300 years later.
1. Prologue

You either die a hero, or you live long enough to see yourself become the villain.

-Christopher Nolan and Jonathan Nolan

_Prologue_

**Long, long ago in a galaxy far, far away, war began. Earth, for many a millennia, had been a refugee haven. People from all worlds and galaxies, all races and groups, and people who spoke all tongues took refuge on Earth, seeing as it was one of the most protected planets in the galaxy. **

**Earth's atmosphere has just the right air mixture to support all species, which therefore made it a **_**no war zone. **_**The wars from many of the inhabitants of Earth is a completely different matter entirely. That included the world and civil wars, not to mention the rebellions and revolutions. But those were easily overlooked.**

**Earth's problems were only a small problem when it came to...well...everywhere else. Almost all of space was at war, with different planets and people taking sides. Unfortunately, or fortunately, depending on how you look at it, Earth did not have the technological advances to make it so far into space, so if their enemies wanted to fight, it had to be done on Earth's turf. The only time, spacecraft was on Earth was for the dropping off of refugees and then taking off to retrieve more. **

**That's not to say Earth was far behind. Medicine, and electronics were up to speed. They just couldn't seem to reach the stars. Not that they truly wanted to. Not even Russia during the Cold War had reached it. They placed the project aside when their new assignment was not to reach space, but let space seek for shelter there. **

**Language barriers were some of the first hurdles that needed to be overcome. Scientists spent many of the early years of the war developing a language interpreter that was cheap to make and easy to use. **

**Now it was just a matter of separating everyone. The Clawdikes couldn't be next to the Kensile. And the Dotmeins were just a bad match for both the Nunquam and Titlandus. But that was quickly fixed with the sorters, and the lawmen. **

**The law men tried to be kind, most of the time. Racism was still heavily present and was probably (probabably) the most difficult thing to solve.**

**Sherlock Holmes was regretfully one among them. He really did try his best, but when it was usually other species rather than humans getting in trouble, it was so easy to slip. Not that Sherlock was exactly a fan of humans wither. He didn't particularly like anything that would argue with him. Which was pretty much everyone. **

**Today, Detective Inspector Lestrade was getting on his nerves. Not only from his words, but Sherlock put to thought how old he actually was. He had to be nearly fifty, with his greying hair, but his blue eyes just had so much life to them. Normally, most wouldn't care, but Sherlock wasn't most. **

**Finally, Sherlock had to know. "How old are you?"**

**Lestrade stopped mid sentence and stared at the detective. Dr. John Watson rolled his eyes a hand to his head. "If you really must know, 42. Now-"**

"**Can't be," Sherlock interrupted, fluttering his hand. " Your hair."**

"**What about my hair?" **

"**It's grey."**

"**So is mine, Sherlock," John pointed out. "Greying hair doesn't decide a man's age."**

"**Your hair's speckled grey because of the stresses of war on you," Sherlock said, turning back to Lestrade. "What stress have you had exactly?" **

**There were screams and all around people began running, like ants when you step on them. then the three men turned to the sky, where many were glancing back, horrified. Through the darkened clouds came a speeding bullet. A large spacecraft both engines on fire. Sherlock watched curiously as it made contact with Earth's surface. John clutched to him for balance as the ground trembled with the force near that of an 8.5 earthquake. **

**All three of them feel to the ground in the full forcing rumble, shrieking metal and shattering class thundering down around them. When the movement had ceased, Sherlock sat up, not bothering to pat the dust from his once black clothing,. He jumped to his feet to see their surroundings better. **

**400 square miles of housing had collapsed to the ground – they were pulling an elderly woman out of the rubble. Down in the city, many, many, many buildings had collapsed. There's a cloud of dust over most of the rest of the city, making it impossible to see what it looked like. There were people running, crying, screaming, people trying to dig out other people from the rubble. Sherlock knew that hundreds of casualties would be a serious understatement. The clouds held pink, purple and orange glows from the fire that seemed to hang frozen in the air. Suspended in time.**

"**Come John," the detective ushered, beginning down the debris covered street. He climbed over a car, the thought that either John or Lestrade could be hurt not even crossing his mind. **

**John shakily stood, and helped the D.I. up, before racing after Sherlock.**

* * *

**That crash changed the history of the universe as we knew it. The ship that had crashed had been on a set course for Earth, laden with all manner of weapons. Explosives, designed to go off the moment the ship entered Earth's atmosphere. And thus Earth no longer became a place of refuge and safety, but a war zone. And one of the more deadly. **


	2. Chapter One

"**You heading out again?" John asked, moving through the moaning bodies that sprawled every inch of the hospital. There was hardly enough room to walk between them all. **

"**As soon as I get the necessary medicine," Sherlock replied, following the doctor. Sherlock watched John ** **notably. It seemed that John aged with everybody that came in. The man was only 31 and looked twice that. More lines creased his facial features and his hair was nearly all grey. "One of our ships has crash landed in enemy territory without aid for the wounded. Lestrade wants me there." Sherlock continued. **

"**You're not a doctor," John muttered. **

"**Your methods are clear, John." Sherlock clasped his hands behind his back. "You've taught me well." **

**John spun around, almost kicking a patient. "I don't like Lestrade sending you out like this. No weapons, no back up. Just you and your brain."**

"**Ahh!" Sherlock smiled falsely. "My brain's the only weapon I need." He tapped his right temple. "All I need."**

**John sighed. Sherlock had been his only friend for many years. The two were as thick as thieves, a term which once meant solving and blogging together, but now hardly meant anything at all. John was expected to stay on Earth, in the war zone, as the Army doctor. Mycroft had put Lestrade in charge of the **_**help**_ **unit, known as the HSS or the Human Service System. In all reality, it was a spying organization with a deceiving name. Many of Sherlock's journeys consisted of infiltrating enemy ships and getting information. But he never told John and Mycroft, the elder Holmes brother, was quite clever with coming up with stories for Sherlock to tell John. **

"**Alright. What do you need this time?" John asked, leading the way out of the tent and into the smoke filled world that awaited outside. **

"**The normal collection," Sherlock replied, stepping carefully around the swarms of people. As they walked, John came to a stop as a wheelbarrow of limbs was carried past, leaving a dripping trail of blood behind it. Sherlock took the doctor's shoulder. "You've seen worse than this," he mumbled.**

"**It's not that Sherlock," John sighed, running a hand over his face. "Do you remember when places like this use to be safe?"**

"**Hardly," Sherlock lied. **

**Truth, London was never really safe, with all of the murderers and all, but Sherlock understood what John was getting at. Earth had been their sanctuary in the times of war, but now it was just like everywhere else. Polluted, crowded, always on edge. There was never a moment's peace. **

"**John," Sherlock said after a moment of reflecting silence. "I do have a schedule to keep to."**

"**Right," John gave a stiff nod and continued to another, nearby, medical tent. They both entered and Sherlock pulled off the backpack he carried. opening it. John sifted through cabinets, collecting the necessary medicine and then dumped them into Sherlock's bag. "Got your Antihistamine-Diphenhydramine?"**

"**Yep," Sherlock nodded, glancing at the contents of his bag.**

"**Acetaminophen?"**

"**Yes."**

"**Cyproheptadine? Apocodeine? Ranitidine, Codeine-"**

**Sherlock gave a hearty baritone laugh. "Yes, it's all here." He looked up to see a destroyed look on the doctor's face. His smile fell and he sighed. "John, I'll be fine."**

"**That's what you said last time," John murmured, folding his arms. "You came back in a match box." Sherlock's lips twitched into a smile. "It's not funny!" John scolded. "I thought you were dead!"**

"**The great Sherlock Holmes, dead?" Sherlock teased. "Do you really doubt me so, John?"**

"**No, not you, everyone else." The doctor took a deep breath. "Please be safe."**

"**Always am. I'll expect a big cuppa when I get back."**

"**You'll know where to find me." John looked around.**

"**On a slab, or in 221B eating Mary's cooking?" Sherlock tried to tease.**

**John gave a forced laugh. "Ha, bloody, ha! You're a horrible human being."**

"**I know." Sherlock looked off as if thinking back on something. "It keeps me up at night." Both gave a laugh. Sherlock dropped the bag as John hugged him. He returned the hug. "Lestrade wouldn't send me out if he thought I'd be in danger," Sherlock tried to assure.**

"**Just come back all in one piece." John moved back. "And eat something, will you? You've lost several pounds."**

"**And you've picked them up," Sherlock pointed out, snatching the bag from the ground. "I'll be back before you know it."**

"**You better. I don't know if I could deal with another episode from Mrs. Hudson about the end of the world."**

**Sherlock chuckled. "Just have Mary come over."**

"**My girlfriend doesn't need to spend the night in an army camp." **

"**Keep her close." Sherlock gave a final nod and left the tent with a small goodbye, when John was called away. He caught up with Lestrade between the soup kitchen and what was once the Windmill theatre, but had been reduced to a homeless shelter. **

"**Let's get you cleaned up," Lestrade said. Sherlock groaned. "I know you don't like it, but it has to happen."**

* * *

**Sherlock glanced into the mirror. His once curly hair had been stripped of all curls and now was slicked back, out of his face. His normally pale skin had been bleached even further white and his lips a lighter shade of pink. He didn't like it. He had convinced Mycroft to let him keep a trench coat. It wasn't his old one. That one had caught fire on another mission, which had caused the older Holmes to be hesitant in the lending of a new one. **

**Mycroft entered the room and a smug smile came to his lips. "Sherly."**

"**Don't call me that, Mycroft," Sherlock ordered, turning with hands clasped behind his back. His brother tilted his head with a hideously contrived apologetic smile.**

**Mycroft leaned against his beautifully crafted epitome of umbrella and opened a pocket notebook in his other hand.**

"**This mission, your name is Khan Noonien Singh."**

"**I can't have anything normal for once?" Sherlock asked.**

"**Sherly, I still need ways to torture you in this new world of ours." There was a considerable amount of silence before Mycroft continued in a gentler voice. "The doctor will stay safe."**

"**He better." Sherlock's tone was bitter. "He's getting sicker."**

"**He's under stress like the rest of us. The Time War has become the universe's, and we are part of the universe, are we not?"**

"**Stupid Time Lords!" Sherlock hissed. "Staring all of this!" **

"**Well-"**

"**Why can't people get along?"**

"**It's human nature," Mycroft replied, standing up straight and walking over, swinging the umbrella. "No matter how badly everyone wants Utopia, it's not possible. Deep down, everyone wants conflict. Let's face it, you thrive on it."**

**Sherlock didn't like to admit his brother was right. Problems always excited him, but only the puzzled problems. He didn't like these problems. War and politics were John and Mycroft's areas of expertise. Sherlock had distaste for things so...troublesome.**

"**So," Mycroft continued, "you have to look at this as the nature of everyone. You're not fighting a war so much as the common instinct."**

"**Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Just show me to my ship."**

* * *

"**You heading home, John?" Molly asked as John moved to the door. John turned to look at the younger woman with mousey brown hair, as he pulled on a jacket.**

"**Yeah. I figured I'd try to get some sleep. I need it."**

"**Keep your phone on. There's a ship coming in tonight, we may need your help."**

**John sighed heavily. "Alright. Night Molly."**

"**Goodnight, John." John was almost out the door when Molly called him back. "John, Wait! I have a question."**

"**Yes?" John asked asked tiredly, turning back into the room.**

"**The powder, from one of Sherlock's experiments... I found something interesting and I wanted to know if it was meant to happen."**

"**What?" John moved over to the table, that was set up with lab equipment, curious to see what Molly was talking about.**

"**The molecular structure...it copies that of cells...and...it repairs itself, like cells, but rapidly. It's-I-I've never seen anything like it."**

"**Repairs?" John's hand took the table and he leaned over Molly's shoulder to see. "Like human flesh?"**

"**Yes, only it's like 20x's stronger. Alright..." Molly shrugged. "I'm under exaggerating."**

"**Unser exag..." John trailed off. "Can I see?" Molly moved and John took over the microscope. "Sherlock what have you been working on?" he whispered to himself. "What has your magnificent brain created?" **

* * *

************That night neither John nor Molly slept. They stayed up the rest of the night, trying to work out Sherlock's experiment. They were both called away for certain emergencies, but both were swift to return to the project. ****

"**Do you think..." John trailed off. **

"**Anything's possible, but should we really mess with the genetic code, John?" Molly glanced back at him. "Nature might find a way to correct it. I don't need a Jurassic Park on my hands."**

"**We'll work with things other than dinosaurs," John joked. "We'll have to test it on-" John broke off and stared at the small open lab door. "Mycroft?" **

"**Just came to check up on you," the ginger Holmes stated, moving to the table both doctors sat at. "What are you doing here so early in the morning?" Mycroft used his umbrella to motion to both of them. "By looks of it, neither of you slept."**

"**Just work," John answered suspiciously. **

"**I heard the word **_**test.**_"

"**Just a side experiment," Molly enforced, moving the note scrolled papers behind her back. **

"**Well, if it's just a side experiment, you wouldn't mind looking at these, then, would you?" Mycroft opened a blue folder and dropped it on the desk beside John. **

**John and Molly poured over Sherlock's notes and scribbles that wound around the drawings. "Where did you get these?" John asked, shifting through the pages. **

"**221B. Sherlock kept them hidden in his room," Mycroft replied flatly. **

"**Why were you going through his st- why were you in the flat?" John turned back to Mycroft with a very judgmental expression. By now, Mycroft was going through the things that Molly and John had been working on.**

"**If you need testing done, I can easily find subjects for your convenience," Mycroft looked up. "Let's go back and see what else my dear brother has to offer the world."**

* * *

"**Sherlock , we need the-oh, what is it called?" Lestrade asked, a hand going to his head. **

"**The Guph Outlet?" Sherlock asked with a smile. **

"**Yes," Lestrade replied. "Your mind's wasted on these missions."**

"**I miss crime too, Lestrade. Don't worry." Sherlock stood and pulled on the backpack. "No weapons, I presume?" **

"**I'm afraid so. You know Mycroft better than any of us. He would give you a weapon if he thought you needed it."**

"**I'm not so sure."**

**Lestrade laughed. "Just signal as usual and we'll be back to get you."**

**Before Sherlock could answer there was a shaking turbulence that filled the ship and both law men took to the sides of the ship to maintain balance. But it didn't end. There was a shout from the front of the ship. Most of it was incoherent, but Sherlock could make out the words, **_**Spotted, enemy,**_ **and **_**turn. **_**Sherlock snatched another bag from the wall, and strapped it over his other one. **

"**What are you doing?" Lestrade yelled over the alarm that had gone off. **

"**Have them turn around!" Sherlock ordered, moving to the door. He hit a button, and watched as the sky of the new planet filled with light from shots being fired from the military base. Wind flew through the sip, causing his hair to fly about despite the gel in it. Sherlock took a deep breath. He'd never done this before, but it couldn't be hard. He'd seen tons of people do it... on John's spy movies. They all lived, why couldn't he. "I'll signal you when I have the outlet." With that, Sherlock took a deep breath and jumped from the ship. **

**It was weird to see the ship grow further and further away as he fell closer to the planet's surface. Everything was completely silent, but the screams in his head. He dodged each flash of light, knowing that he'd be dead if he so much as skimmed one. With a pull of his chord, he whiplashed, and floated down. He shook his head at the sudden change of speed and blinked several times. There was wizz as light flashed past him, and connected with his parachute. **

**Sherlock's heart stopped as the cloth fell slack and he raced for the on coming trees. **

* * *

"**Watson, you're needed on the docking bay," a surgeon said as she ran past the station he was at. John rolled his eyes and raced for the docking bay on the North end of the camp. People were being rushed out, on stretchers and others in uniforms were running onto the ship to be deployed. **

"**Move them to ECP Center," John instructed, pointing to the direction the unit was. "I'll be there in a moment." Parades of stretchers were lead away. He had to get Molly. He had to ask her something. He raced into the lab and snatched Molly from her chair. **

"**John! What a-"**

"**We need to use that stuff."**

"**Stuff?" Molly stopped, pushing her hair out of her face. "What stuff?" John gave an expectant look. "No! Oh, no! It's not ready John. We don't know what it will do. We don't know what Sherlock's done to it." **

"**I don't care what it can do at the moment. Those people that just came off that ship need help! I've never seen any of them look so bad. They need something other than what we have, and Sherlock has created that," John argued in a soft voice so they weren't overheard. "I wouldn't use it if I didn't think it couldn't help, Molly."**

"**I really don't think it's ready." Molly sighed a hand to her head. "I don't know, John. We've never used it on anyone before. Only animals, and-and... Not yet, John." **

**John sighed. "Alright. But I could really use your help. There's at least a dozen of them off of this flight."**

"**Let's get started, then." Molly rolled up her sleeves and moved after John.**

**As they moved to the ECP Center, John couldn't help but overhear a rather loud conversation that was taking place in a side hall. "Molly, I'll-I'll be there in a moment." **

**She gave a small nod. "Alright." She left down the hall and John moved towards the voices.**

"**What do you mean?!" It was Mycroft. His voice was sharp and demanding, not that is wasn't always, but John had never heard it like this. **

"**He went down." That was Lestrade. His tone was spiked with apology and weariness. "Our ship was spotted and he jumped. He was hit and went down, out of sight. His LSR is still working."**

"**The Life Search Radars have been known to be faulty!" Mycroft challenged.**

"**It's all we have to go on. He could still be alive. We just need a smaller ship to get-" **

"**Sherlock's missing?" John asked when he couldn't hold back any longer. Both men turned to look at John with a start. **

"**No," Lestrade replied swiftly. **

"**It was the co-pilot," Mycroft explained. "Thought it was time to abandon ship."**

**John's gut was telling him it was a lie, but he was quick to push the feeling away and accept that as the truth. Anything that kept Sherlock safe. John glanced down and gave a sad look. "Right. I'll be on my way, then, shall I?" John turned.**

"**How's the project coming Doctor?" Mycroft asked coolly.**

"**Project?" Lestrade questioned. **

**John turned back, stiffly. "We need...larger...test subjects soon."**

"**I have men lined up," Mycroft stated.**

"**That's not what I need, Mycroft." John's mind had been going over this for some time. "I need something like...Noah's ark. One of everything. I need side effects, things like that."**

"**I'll get on it.' Mycroft nodded in assurance. "Do you have somewhere to be, Doctor Watson?"**

"**Oh.' John looked around. "So I do..." He slowly turned and left to go find Molly. **

* * *

**Everything seemed to be spinning. Or maybe it was just him. Sherlock very slowly opened his eyes and blinked several times. As his eyes focused, he jumped. He looked around and eventually calmed himself as he remembered what had happened. **

**Sherlock was spinning in mid air, suspended by his parachute. The canvass was stuck on a branch, dangling Sherlock a good six or seven meters to the ground. He looked up and rolled his eyes. That parachute wouldn't be coming undone any time soon. **

**Sherlock struggled with the belt on his pack. There was a click as the buckle detached. Sherlock's stomach rose as he fell to the ground. Sherlock landed but gained so much momentum that he rolled forward, narrowly missing another tree and meeting a hill. **

**Dead leaves and dirt were the only things Sherlock had beneath him as he slid down the hill. When he came to a stop at the bottom, he didn't dare move. Every part of him ached. Being suspended unconsciously had been enough to stiffen the detective, but the fall had jolted his nerves to a point where each screamed.**

**After several long minutes, Sherlock pushed himself up. He spit, trying to clean his mouth, and blood covered the leaves. He had bitten his tongue, but that wasn't the only thing. As his hands moved to his face, he felt something protruding out of his left cheek. A tree branch had stabbed straight through his cheek. **

**He took the stick that was the diameter of an American dime and pulled. Each tug burned. As soon as it was out, he tossed it aside and reached for his other bag. He clawed his way through the pill bottles and glass containers which, miraculously, hadn't broken. **

**Finding the right bottle, he opened it and dumped the brown liquid into his hand. With a steadying breath, he pressed the iodine soaked hand to his cheek. He groaned, leaning over in pain, spitting as the liquid entered his mouth. **

**After a few more handfuls, he cleaned everything up. He slid the pack back on and got to his feet. His knees rattled beneath him and he stumbled with the weight they hadn't been forced to carry in several hours. **

**Hours? **

**Sherlock pushed back his sleeve and glanced at the watch he wore. He'd been out for almost two days? Sherlock began patting himself down, to see what was in his pockets. Gum...GPS...broken. He tossed that away. His LSR. The screen was cracked, but still working. And then the homing device. But his phone. Where was his phone?**

**Sherlock glanced up and a groan filled his throat. It was in his other coat back on the ship. He'd have to make due without it...just like without his GPS. **

**According to his watch it was almost one in the afternoon, but as he searched the sky, he found three suns. A curse echoed through the forest. How was he supposed to get out now? **

**For the first time in his life, Sherlock felt truly lost. He sat down, his mind racing. He didn't know what to do. With a moan, he fell back into the leaves, looking at the sky. His eyes flickered around and wandered to his parachute. **

**Sherlock jumped bolt upright and scrambled to his feet. If he had jumped from the ship... The ship had been going East, to where the head of the military base was. So if Sherlock had jumped from the right side of the ship, he had jumped North facing, which was the direction his pack was facing.**

"**Thank you,: Sherlock whispered. He wasn't exactly sure who it was meant for, but he felt it needed to be said so that any God that was listening to hear it. **

* * *

"**John?" Mycroft said, entering the lab. He stopped at the sight of the doctor, face down in a book that sat upon the table. All around him were papers with scribbles, open books with all colors of highlighter in them, and dishes with different smelling liquids in them. **

**On another table rested the clay version of the tubes that had been drawn in Sherlock's notes. Mycroft still wasn't sure what they were meant for, these...torpedoes, as Sherlock referred to them, but Mycroft felt the dire need to see them come to life.**

**Mycroft's shoes clicked as he moved to John. His hand rested on John's shoulder and the man jumped from a shallow sleep, the book's top most edge indented on his forehead. John sighed at the sight of the older Holmes and rested his head in his palm with a yawn. He rubbed his bloodshot eyes.**

"**You need sleep," Mycroft stated. "Get home, John."**

"**No, I'm-I'm..." -he yawned- "fine. Fine, fine, fine. **

"**You've been working nonstop for days. Take a break. Go home, rest, sleep in. I'll cover for you."**

**John gave yet another yawn and stretched. "I can't. I'm waiting for the results to come up." **

**Results to what?" Mycroft moved over to the open laptop. **

"**Well, we put some of Sherlock's... stuff in a dead rabbit."**

"**You got it down to liquid form?" Mycroft asked, turning back to John. John nodded and rubbed his eyes again. "What are you waiting for?"**

"**The DNA structure to come back."**

"**What do you mean?"**

"**The rabbit came back to life."**

"**It what?" Mycroft wasn't sure if John was all there. John had been working for 72 hours straight without stopping. **

"**The heart started up again," John explained. "The lungs work. The brain activity was back to normal. Molly and I wanted to see what changed in the DNA. I let her go home." **

"**I see." Mycroft turned about the room, looking over everything.**

"**How's Sherlock?"**

**Mycroft turned back to John. "Sorry?"**

"**Did Sherlock call in?"**

"**Yes." Mycroft leaned against the table, skimming what looked like codes for equations. "Called in last night. He's fine. Found the ship and should be home within a week or so."**

**John looked over Mycroft's face, as the Holmes brother stayed concentrated on the notes. John couldn't pin down the tone that Mycroft used. It wasn't a lie, but it wasn't exactly the truth either.**

"**That's all?" John asked.**

"**He found the co-pilot, safe. he was a little banged up, but all together. The crew was safe, all accounted for."**

**John looked down at the table. He was trying to focus on Mycroft's voice. Sherlock had taught him how to read tones, but he couldn't seem to do it. Maybe he was too tired. **

"**Oh!" Mycroft looked up. John turned to look at him, hopeful for some news specifically connected to Sherlock's welfare, but it didn't come. "I have twenty species ready for you."**

"**And they all volunteered? I don't want anyone forced into this Mycroft. We still don't know how it works." **

"**All volunteers. Don't worry. How are the...torpedoes going?"**

"**They...they're strange." John rolled his chair to the other table and dug through the papers. "They have their own defense system that will set them off if threatened. It's like...it's alive. It's like Sherlock was trying to make life or something. They have their own nervous system and everything. **

**Mycroft's eyebrows knitted together as he took the paper John held out to him. He read over everything and his eyes widened. "Life sustainer? I don't remember this part."**

"**That's because it was encoded. We had to break it. But yes. A life sustainer. Not a healer or anything to that effect, but a sustainer. Kinda like how life support works for someone in a coma. It will, if we can get it working, that is, keep the person in an unaging existence."**

"**We could use that... There are plenty of people here who need something safe to stay in until this war is over. I'll get men on this ASAP." Mycroft dropped the paper and moved for the door. **

"**That could be years, Mycroft!" John stood. "That's not fair to people. I sure as hell wouldn't want to be shoved in one of those for years and wake up in an entirely different world."**

"**Then we'll make that point clear. This could be the thing we need." Mycroft turned back. "We soon might not have another option and this will be our only chance on saving hundreds of lives." **

**John was about to argue, but stopped himself. He knew Mycroft was right. **

* * *

**Sherlock filled up the water bottle from the small stream. Did he really jump this far away from the head base? He had been walking for hours on end. **

**He stood and glanced around. It was getting dark. He had to find somewhere to sleep. He knew he'd have to stay by the stream or else he'd lose his sense of direction. **

**He moved to the nearest tree and started up it. Part way up through the pine, he could see movement. As he pushed branches away he could see a small ship with a crew of a dozen or so. Only they weren't human. They were Nispoc, or War Gods. They were all trained for a very small age the ways of war and the ways to end a life. **

**Their race and culture had been this way for hundreds of years, and they had control over three planets within the Milky Way alone. **

**They were gathering boxes from a large shipment and putting them on the ship. **

**Sherlock sighed. He hated Nispoc. There had been more than one time that he had almost been killed because of getting captured or caught. Be eat group was different, so Sherlock never knew how to get out of the situation. **

**Sherlock hid behind his bush as some of them turned around. His breath caught as he tried not to be seen. There was a silence, before they went back to talking and working. Sherlock sighed, and looked back at the group. If he could get onto that ship, then he'd be able to get to the base and get the Guph outlet. He wasn't sure what it did, but obviously it was important enough for Mycroft to need it. **

**As sherlock came back from his thoughts, he saw that the small clearing was empty of all boxes and all Nispoc. **

"**Don't move!" Was ordered very harshly, as a pasty yellow, six fingered hand took Sherlock's throat from behind. **


	3. Chapter Two

**I want to say sorry to those that have followed and Favorited this story. I know that it has been a long while since I uploaded. Forgive me. I will do my best to start writing again. As I've said before I haven't stopped writing my stories. I have them all planned out I just need to find the time to do it all. College and a full time job doesn't leave much time, but I will be doing my best to complete this story. also, I'm sorry this chapter is so short, but hopefully it's a good start. Now, onto the story! :)**

"It's working," Molly muttered breathlessly. "John!" She laughed and grabbed his sleeve, shaking him. "It's working John!"

John nodded, staring at the panel of different monitors. A young girl who had been suffering from cancer and was on her death bed was showing signs of improvement. Her heart rate had increased significantly and the color was returning to her cheeks.

John smiled as he watched Molly jump slightly, a huge smile on her face. John felt as happy as Molly acted. They had been working on this for several days non-stop. Now there were several more questions. Would it affect anyone else in this way? What were the side effects and long term effects? Would it have an effect on healthy people? And above all, would it turn out like I Am Legend?

"Doctor Watson!" Mycroft said, entering the room. He stopped and looked at the monitors. "Hmm..." he muttered. "It's working."

"What did you want to show me?" John asked, turning to face the elder Holmes brother.

"We've made the first one."

"You made a torpedo?" Molly was now focused on Mycroft as well, who was still staring at the monitors coolly.

"Yes. Follow me." Mycroft turned without a second glance and walked out of the room. John was swift to follow, directing Molly to stay and watch after the young girl.

"Slow down! Please!" John said, almost running to keep up.

"We don't have the time. There's something else I need to show you as well."

* * *

"Name?" The Nispoc that had found him demanded.

"Khan," Sherlock replied, spitting blood from his mouth. His hands were chained behind him and he was in the holding bay of the Nispoc ship, being interrogated by two Nispocs.

"Where are you from?" the other asked.

Sherlock's mind scrambled. God, why was it always different? "Gothos."

They both started laughing and Sherlock groaned as he was shoved over. A boot collided with his chest and he coughed, more blood covering the floor. His eye sight was beginning to blur and his stomach did somersaults. The cold underside of one other there shoes took it's place against his cheek, putting an amazing amount of pressure against his head. Sherlock's eyes closed tightly, praying that his head would stay in one piece. The two Nispoc spoke, but Sherlock could only hear a muffled mumble. The ship floor, that he had become well acquainted with, roared to life as the ship took off.

The boot was jerked from his face, but not from the Nispoc. Sherlock slid along the floor and into one of the stacks of boxes, his back slamming into something hard. He groaned, his head swimming in pain. Through the disorienting sensation, Sherlock opened his eyes and blinked away the tears before slowly rolling onto his knees. Using his shoulder to balance him against the boxes, he got to his feet only to fall against the boxes as the ship was hit by something again. Gaining a slight amount of footing, he stood up straight trying to spot where his two friends had gone. Both lay unconscious and crumpled in pile of fallen boxes. Sherlock relaxed slightly at the sight of a knife in one of their belts. He could cut his bindings.

Sherlock took a step towards them and was flung forward as a clanking sound filled the air. A red light started to flash and his stomach began to rise. They were falling out of the sky.

* * *

John glanced around the room. Mycroft had not told John of the amount of torpedoes he had successfully made. The large room that had been cleared out was stacked to the the tubes, some already in use. John disproved of The amount of people who had been in cased and what looked like frozen in time. John moved closer to one of the tubes and glanced in at the sleeping face of a stranger. He didn't seem to be in any pain. His vitals were being monitored on a screen beside him. His heart rate was normal and so on. John turned back to an expectant Mycroft who was leaning on his umbrella.

"How many do you have in here?" John questioned.

"A few Humans, Changelings, Zygons, Gorkons-"

"And are they all doing well?" John interrupted.

"Absolutely." Mycroft tone was offended at even the possibility that something could go wrong. John looked back at the man's vital signs. Again, nothing seemed to be wrong. There was a thick silence that filled the room only being interrupted by the beeping of the medicines. "John, there is some news that I think you should be privy to." John quickly turned to face Mycroft pleading with his mind for it to be information on his friend. Mycroft didn't notice John's desperate look and continued on. "I have received news from one of my _very_ reliable resources that there is going to be a strike on Earth."

John's eyes widened. "But we're a peace zone. Why-"

"John, I don't have any reasoning. It could be that if Earth is destroyed then there are less people to fight and the war will end. It could be a statement from another race. John I don't know. All I know is that if we want to save people we need to get as many of them into these pods as we can. We need to put them on one of our best ships and send them out into deep space, somewhere where this war won't find them."

"But what if this attack doesn't happen? What if-"

"John!" Mycroft's voice was stern, his eyes piercing through John's shaking form. "We do not have time for what if's. Even if no one finds these pods, we need them somewhere safe so that people have a chance. We need to make more of everything, we need to find more people to fill these tubes, we need to prepare for disaster. This is no time to think, it is time to act."

John snapped from his shock and nodded at Mycroft's few slightly inspiring words and turned. "I'm on it!"

* * *

The ship was stabilized and headed towards Earth. Sherlock had done his best to repair what had happened to the ship. What he wanted to know now was why the pilot had been dead when he had rushed into the cabin. Sherlock kept a steady grip on the yoke, but his eyes kept darting around the small room in a search for any small hint to his questions. There was nothing wrong with the cabin. It wasn't even scratched and the radar didn't show any other ships, so why was the captain dead?

There was a cold pressure on Sherlock's neck and he froze. He felt lips press into his bruised cheek in a kiss and his stiffened body relaxed slightly. "Irene," he hissed. the knife was removed from his neck and a black clad woman sat down in the co-pilot's seat.

"Hello darling." Her voice was honey thick. "What brings you out this far in the galaxy?" Her eyes moved over his and she couldn't help but smile. She would never admit it but she had missed this detective.

"I was looking for something for my brother,' Sherlock replied, glancing at the thin frame beside him. She sat sideways in the chair with her legs crossed in the same position she had sat in when they had first met. He flinched slightly as he hand ruffled through his hair releasing his curls from the small amount of gel that still held them in place.

"There, much better," she smirked before biting her bottom lip. "Now, let's get down to business, shall we?" Sherlock's confused eyes met her's as she pulled something from the bag that was slung over her shoulders. "This is what you want, correct?" She held up a small box in her gloved hand. The Guph Outlet. Sherlock's hand snatched for it, but she quickly moved it out of his grasp. "Not so fast lovely," she cooed. "It's for sale, not for free."


End file.
